


Knight in Bloody Armor

by SoundlessScreamer



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Blood, Child Abuse, Fluff, Graphic Description of Pain, I will tag more as the story progresses, M/M, Neglect, Rape, Slavery, Torture, Violence, Whipping, rape mention, slavestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 03:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6640108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoundlessScreamer/pseuds/SoundlessScreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a messed up version of Earth, trolls are slaves to humanity.  Dave has always hated the idea of owning a troll, but when he sees one being tortured in public, he has to try and save it. He might have gotten a bit more than he bargained for when he gets Karkat however, and as Karkat slowly reveals his past, Dave's need to keep the troll safe only deepens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Cry

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are starving. You haven’t eaten since last night, and of course you are so lazy that you haven’t bought groceries for a week. So this morning you peeled yourself out of bed and walked to the gas station two blocks away. You’re walking down the street, swinging a bag of apple juice and ramen when you hear yelling and screaming. A huge crowd has gathered in front of the pound. The idea of owning trolls has always made you sick to your stomach because they are actual thinking beings, so you turn around, not wanting to have to walk past whatever sick thing the psycho “handlers” are doing now. The long way back to the apartment will do just fine, you’ve got nothing but time on your hands right now. Then you hear it, a strangled scream of obvious pain. It fades into the cheers of the crowd, and fuck did that make your blood boil. Before you know it, you are pushing your way through the crowd to get to the center. 

What you see makes you want to puke. A male troll is tied to a post, his hands secured around the pole leaving his bare back exposed to the audience. He is kicking and growling, still putting up a fight even though he can’t possibly get free. Bright red blood is dripping from a gash on his back. He snaps his teeth as the barbed whip comes down a second time, tearing the flesh upon impact. You can tell he tries to fight the yell that comes out of his throat, but it escapes anyway. The whip comes down a third and fourth time. You want to rip the whip from the bastard handler’s hand and shove it down his throat, but you keep your cool. A Strider never lets his emotions get the best of him, and as sick as this whole ordeal is, you don’t let your poker face fall. 

A lady walks to the side of the troll, grabs his face and says something low to him, then stares out at the crowd. “Greetings all. We thank you for coming to watch the punishment of this troll. His constant swearing and foul temper have been taking a toll on us here, and we have decided to teach the sorry shit a lesson. As you can see, he is a mutant blood, the lowest of the low, and we are doing him a favor by just keeping him alive.”

CRACK. The whip slams down a fifth time, this gash bigger than the others. The troll’s head snaps back as he cries out, beads of translucent red sweat pouring down his face. His breath is coming in ragged pants now from the pain.

“Of course we know that some of you like to break trolls. Because of his pathetic blood color, we are only asking $100 for him. Does anyone want to take the sucker?” A few people snicker, raise their hands, and you realize that the pain won’t end for this troll if one of these bastards buys him. It feels like reflex as you lazily put your hand in the air. “Well I see a few takers. Surprising, he’s not really worth it,” The woman’s lips curl into a wicked grin. “But who am I to complain. Would you all care to bid on this piece of shit?” 

The trolls strangled cries pulse through your ears as the whip cracks a sixth time.

The idea of a bidding makes some of the raised hands fall, obviously not thinking an unbroken mutant blood would be worth it. You and two others step forward. One of the guys looks like he has casual interest, the other is definitely a pervert. His eyes are scanning the troll hungrily. You don’t know if he is a sadist or a rapist, but you don’t care. What he wants to do to this troll might be acceptable in the eyes of the law, but not by your books. You were going to keep the troll away from him whatever the costs.

“Well well, I am a little impressed. Let us start the bidding.”

The nonchalant guy talks first. “One ten.” His voice has a thick southern twang. You counter him $120. It goes back and forth between the two of you for a moment, and when you finally say the word two-hundred, he says nothing back. You smirk ever so slightly. He obviously does not think a mutant is worth double the asking price. 

That is when Mr. Pervert Dick speaks up. “Four hundred.” You swivel your head slowly looking him dead in the eyes, though he can’t see yours. The grin on his face says he thinks he just won.

You cock your head and put your hands into your jean pockets. “Four-fifty,” you say casually, as if the money means nothing to you. It really doesn’t. Your bro was pretty famous, definitely well off, and your comics weren’t doing too bad themselves. Your agent thought that in a few years you’d be able to start working on a movie. Money wasn’t an issue to you, and since you did not really give a shit about the trolls blood, you did not care if you paid quite a bit. Heck, a blue blood could be worth $5,000, so $450 was still pretty low.

Mr. Pervert Dicks face turns into a scowl. You know you have seriously pissed him off to continue the bidding. Not that you give a shit, you are going to fucking win. “$475,” he says, the words hissing between his teeth. 

“$500.” He sneers at you. You just stare at him with the slightest bit of a smug look on your face. You can do this all damn day.

“One thousand.” He grunts the words, his eyes daring you to defy him. The sweat on his brow tells you that this is it, his last card. He thinks for sure you wouldn’t go any higher than that. Boy is he wrong.

You raise an eyebrow over your shades. “$2,000.” The crowd gasps. The handler who was whipping the troll stops just before the seventh lash. You realize that $2,000 is a price more fitting of a well trained yellowblood with psionics, or an oliveblood, but it’s not like you give a shit. Hell, you never thought you’d even be buying a troll. Why not go big?

The man snarls at you. “Fine. You want to pay that much for a piece of garbage? I don’t give a shit, I can find myself a perfectly good rustblood.” 

“Whatever man,” is your remark back to him. You hear a click of heels as the lady walks up to you. Her face is beaming. She obviously never expected to get nearly this much for the troll, not by a long shot. 

“What is your name young man?” she asks.

“Just call me Strider.” Her eyes go wide with recognition.

“Strider? As in the Striders? Well goodness it’s a pleasure to sell you a troll from our prestigious little shop.” The handler places a thick, rough red collar around the troll’s neck, hooking on a chain leash, then unties him from the pole. The troll stumbles, his legs shaking. You wonder if he even knows what just happened. 

“Let’s make our transaction inside, shall we?”

“Yeah, sure.” She takes the chain from the handler and yanks harshly, forcing the troll to follow her. He is nearly tripping with every step, you can tell he is exhausted. Dried tears coat his face, blood is still dripping from his back, and a sheen of slightly red sweat coats his body. You grip your groceries and follow them through the door. She leads you down the hall into an office.

“Is this the first troll you have owned?”

“Yeah,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“We have a free manual that comes with your purchase then. It talks about the foods they can and cannot eat, general care, successful training programs for trolls, those kinds of things. You might want to seriously consider sending him to intensive training. He has quite a mouth on him, and while he is pretty good at following orders, he can be stubborn from time to time.” She says the last words carefully, obviously not wanting to scare you away from your purchase.

“I’m sure I will be able to handle him perfectly well,” you say. The troll looks up at you for the first time, a growl rising in his chest. A snarl is on his face, but when you look, there is a trace of something else too. Fear. Yes, he is afraid of what you will do to him. Well he better be prepared to have the rug pulled out from under his feet because you aren’t about to treat him like some kind of slave. You are ready to be at your apartment, where he can realize that he is free from sitting in a cage of his own shit. “Can we just skip the formalities, I really need to get home. I have a comic that I still need to work on.” This is a lie. You find it hard to give a shit.

“Oh, yes, of course Mr. Strider. If you could sign these documents, these here are his statements of ownership. And this is an agreement to pay the total agreed upon amount. $2,000 I think it was?” There is a greedy glint in her eye. You sign the papers and give her your debit card. 

When the transaction comes back approved, you take the trolls paperwork, the instruction manual, and the leash in your hands. You look down at the trolls name. Karkat. That’s cute. You go to unclip the leash, he doesn’t need you pulling on him after the ordeal he just went through. Or at all for that matter. When your hands move in his direction, he flinches and snaps at you. 

“Calm down Karks, its alright. I just want to take this damn chain off ok?” He looks at you with a puzzled expression on his face. You unclip the leash, and think you hear an audible sigh of relief as the weight vanishes from his neck. You motion for him to follow you. “Come on Karkitty, we are going home.” He is still stumbling as he walks. Damn, you wish you had taken your car today. But your apartment is only two blocks away so it seemed silly to drive in the crazy Huston traffic. Still, you know he can’t walk that far, so you call a cab.  
He is quiet all the way to your apartment, and still as you climb the many stairs. He slows down more each time he takes a step. Finally, when you get to the top landing, his knees buckle. He quickly tries to stand back up. His eyes meet your face, and you can see him scanning it, searching for something. It dawns on you that he is afraid you will be angry he collapsed. What kind of world was he living in. 

“Well sleeping beauty, it seems you are just about ready for your nap.” You smirk at him as you pick him up bridal style and carry him into the apartment. This is when he finally talks. 

“Get the fuck off of me. I don’t need your help you nookstain. I can walk by myself perfectly fine thank you very much.” He flails at you as he says this, trying to make you drop him. You just grip him tighter. 

“Uh uh princess. A knight always lends his services when he is needed.” You enter through the door and kick it closed behind you. You then proceed to place the small troll on the couch. He winces as the fabric makes contact with his wounds. At least they are no longer bleeding. “Let me look at your back.” You move your hand towards him and once again he flinches. You sigh. “Ok look, let’s get something straight. I’m not like any other douche bag who has owned you before, or those idiots in the pound. I’m not going to hurt you ever. I just want to look at your wounds to make sure they don’t need stitches or something.” You reach for him again and he snarls at you, snapping his teeth.

“Why the fuck would I believe you? Do you know how many asshats have told me that before? Then they just beat me around like I’m a punching bag. Not that I really deserve anything better. You’re just going to be an assmunching abusive shit just like ever other master I have had in my sorry life. You’ll tell me you will treat me right, that I will be cared for as long as I’m good. But any little fuck up I make will be enough for you to beat me and get off to my screams. I have lived this before you shitsponge. But that’s what I get for being the scum of the earth righ-” His growling stops suddenly and he looks up at you with concern. You can see him process what he just said. “I mean, I’m sorry master. I didn’t mean any of that.” His voice is timid and he looks at the ground. “Please don’t punish me.”

A dead weight drops in your chest. You are going to need to have a big long talk about how you are not his master and he is not expected to be a nice little happy go lucky troll following orders. But right now you just say, “Don’t call me master. I’m just Dave. Now let me see your back.” He turns around, shaking a little, whether with the pain of movement or with fear you don’t know. The gashes aren’t too deep thank god. You get some alcohol and clean them. He hisses as the burn rises from the tender flesh, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

“How are you feeling? Do you want to shower or should I take you to the spare room?”

“You won’t be taking me anywhere, I can walk just fine by myself thank you. And some rest would be nice if you would allow me to have some,” he sneers.

“Of course. Let me get some extra blankets for you.” The expression of puzzlement is back in his eyes, but is quickly replaced by a scowl. You search through the basket of clean laundry to find two extra blankets because you have no idea what temperature trolls like to be at while they sleep. Then you lead Karkat to the one room in your apartment that is actually clean merely because you don’t use it.

“Here you go, home sweet home Karkles.” He glares at you as if it is insulting that those words just came out of your mouth.  


When you look in his eyes, you know there is lots of fire there, but also something else, so sad and broken, you’re not sure any amount of your kindness could fix it. It is fear and pain and confusion and you have no clue how to help the small thing. Your name is Dave Strider, and you have no idea what you have gotten yourself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever. I have read toooons of fanfictions for many years, but only recently did the idea of this fan fiction come to me. So that said, I seriously thank anyone who reads this fanfiction and enjoys it. Also I am very open to constructive criticism or your thoughts on the fic. Anything you want to say, I am here to listen. I kinda can't believe that you actually have read this fic, or that you are reading these notes here, but thank you. Seriously thank you so much!
> 
> -KK


	2. Confusion

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you are irritated. You should be like all the other trolls in this pound, sitting in a cage and waiting to be sold. However, the handlers like to use you like a free service troll, even though they already have 5 to help out around the pound. Right now you are scrubbing toilets when you could be curled up in your blanket rereading The Fault in Our Stars for the 500th time. You guess they make you work because of the fact that you are a mutant blood, which means the chances of being sold are next to nothing. And while you hate it here, you would really not like to be bought again. Mutant bloods are always treated like shit, this is a fact of your god awful life.

You are scrubbing a urinal when a swift kick to the back sends your body into the porcelain. You snarl, a loud growl rising from your chest instantly. 

“Well well, it looks like Cuntkat is actually doing something worthwile. Doesn’t it feel good to be where you belong?” God dammit fuck, you would know that ornery voice anywhere. Craig digs his heel in between your shoulders blades. “Shit should stick with shit if you ask me.”

“It takes one to know one bulgesucker,” you growl. The kick to the back of your head is expected, but it still hurts like a motherfucker. Craig grabs your hair and lifts you up onto your feet. He grips your shoulders and spins you around forcefully, then pulls your hair again, making you look up at him. The grip on your hair is especially painful with the dull throb that has now started in your thinkpan. You snarl up at him, and the growl in your chest deepens.

“What did you just call me mutant?” he spits.

“Depends on which you are referring to, shit or bulgesucker” you snarl back. His face turns red with anger and the glare in his eyes tells you that you have crossed a line. 

“Ok you little shit, you have had a foul temper ever since you arrived here. That is the last straw, it’s time you learned your damn place. You are the lowest of the fucking low, we could kill you and no one would complain. You should be on your hands and knees everyday thanking us, but instead you are a loudmouthed troll who thinks he has the rights to actually stand up for himself.” You know what is coming, you have been punished here twice before. He will take you to the back room and tie you to the wall, then whip you until you cant hold yourself up anymore. It hurts like crazy and there’s no way that you want it to happen, but you can take it. It sucks, but you have been through way worse. 

Craig ties a piece of rope around your wrists and leads you out of the bathroom. He takes you through the familiar halls, and you start to turn right to go to the back room, but he pulls you in the other direction. “Oh no no no Karkat, you have had your chances in the back room. You’ve really pissed me off today so you get the special treatment.” He stops by the front desk to grab scissors, then leads you towards the entrance to the pound, a door you have only been through once when you got here several weeks ago. Fear fills your mind. Is he throwing you out? You’d be fucking killed by someone for not having a collar on! Oh god what if he was taking you to a testing facility. You know that there are places in the government that are doing research on troll blood. They specifically want mutants, limebloods, and fuchsia bloods. Though you hate your life, you are not ready to die, and every possibility of what might be happening ends in your death. It takes all of your willpower to keep up your scowl, to not tug at your bonds and try to get back to your cage. You can’t show him that you are afraid. That would just give him what he wants.

As you walk through the doors, blinding light hits your eyes. You’d forgotten just how bright the sun was to your nocturnal eyes. It makes you tear up and your vision is hazy. Your whole body is on alert right now and you feel venerable with your vision temporarily compromised. You see Craig’s blurry form move toward you and you flinch. Damn yourself for flinching, you wish you were stronger, that you could hold your ground instead of submitting like you are some type of animal. Which you guess you are, you are nothing and you shouldn’t have the will to fight like you do. Craig grabs your shirt and starts to cut it off with the scissors. Great it’s not like you fucking wanted your shirt on anyway. You’re only half blind and have no idea what is happening, might as well take the only amount of protection you have from the outside world too. 

You feel him tug at your bound hands and lead you to a pole that is in front of the building. He cuts the ropes, pushes you to your knees, then reties your hands around the pole, testing to make sure you cannot get away. Though you are still scared shitless about what is happening, at least you now know he’s not sending you to a testing lab. 

“I think it’s time we had a little fun, don’t you Cuntkat? Let’s let everyone watch as I whip you.” Sure enough, there is a small crowd around you already, wanting to know what is going on.

“Fuck you,” you say back to him. You instantly regret it, your mouth is what got you into this mess, and you know it will just make it worse.

“Ooooh you should not have said that.” His hot breath is on your neck, and he whispers the next words. “I was going to just whip you, but I think you deserve… something more now.” Then he leaves. Your blood pusher is doing a marathon in your chest. You pull against the rope that is keeping your hands together, begging it to break. If it did you don’t know what you would do, you have nowhere to go, but this situation is going downhill fast. Of course you cannot break the rope. You could probably slice it if you had your claws, but under regulations, they are trimmed weekly. The crowd is growing larger by the second. Your vision has finally adjusted, and you scan the faces. Most have a wicked grin, as though they can’t wait for what is coming. Suddenly, cheers ring out, and you hear Craig’s voice again. “This will teach you to respect me,” he practically growls. You hear the whip rise, slowly. You anticipate the sting.

Fire licks your shoulder blade. A scream leaves your mouth as you feel your blood start to drip down your back. This is no ordinary whip that is for damn sure. You start to struggle, growling and kicking, trying to get away. The pain is running from your shoulder to your legs and up your arms. You can’t take it again. Please not again, not again, not agai-

The second one is worse. You try to fight the scream this time, you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing your pain, but you can’t hold it back. Your back is arched and your head thrown back. You’re panting so hard that your throat hurts. The cheering is deafening in your ears and hot fire pulses from your wound across your body. The next two licks are quick, one after the other, and you collapse against the pole. Your sweat drips into the gashes on your back, making them sting even more. Your throat is on fire from your ragged breath. Fuck you need to get out of this. Please let it end. You’ll be good, you’ll never disrespect a human ever again. Just let it stop. Let it fucking stop. 

Your ears perk, you hear the clicking of heels. Janice, the manager of the pound, grabs your face. Her nails dig into your cheeks as she stares into your eyes. “Do you like the barbed whip? It has some bite doesn’t it.” She throws your head back down and begins to address the crowd. 

The whip rips your flesh again, worse than all the others. Your scream feels like it's ripping your throat. Tears are rolling down your face. You see spots swimming in front of you and you think you might pass out. Janice is talking you think. Your thinkpan is pounding, and her words barely register. Mutant. Breaking. $100. Oh shit. No god fucking dammit she is trying to sell you. Selling you in this state, being punished publically, that will attract the worst master. Sadists that want to cause you pain worse than this. Shit shit shit you did not need another master, especially not one like your last one. 

Focus Karkat, focus. You need to listen, know what is going on. The pain is still coursing through your body, but you find enough strength to turn your head a bit. Damn it, some of the fuckers in the crowd have their hands in the air. You’re going to be sold again.

Blinding light fills your vision as the whip licks your back again. You are kneeling in a pool of your own blood now. You feel dizzy. You’ve got to stay awake, if you pass out now you will be completely defenseless against the sick fuck who buys you. You need to be able to fight or you might wake up with swords through your body being kept just at the brink of death or something. 

Numbers. You can hear numbers being said. Multiple voices. Bidding. Yes you think they are bidding on you. Boy you bet Janice is happy, she never expected you to sell. $475. What. No, you cannot have just heard that number. That is way to much fucking money for you. 

$500. The voice that says this sounds deep and nice. No emotion, just cool. One thousand is the counter. This one sounds rough and angry. You like the other voice more. Wait. Someone just offered $1,000 for you. That is ridiculous, you are not worth that much by a long shot. Maybe he doesn’t understand the worth of a mutant blooded troll. You can hear the whip rising again. You tense up, preparing yourself as best you can for th-

$2000. It’s the deep voice again. The strike doesn’t come. You can hear gasps in the crowd. Your mind goes into a frenzy. $2,000, that is an insane amount of money for you. He can see your bright red blood all around you, he must know you are not worth more than $150. Oh fuck what if he is some kind of collector. You have heard of people buying trolls with interesting blood colors, then hunting them for sport. In your experience, the richer the master, the more psychotic they are. A collar is snapped around your neck, and your hands are suddenly free. Your body doesn’t seem to be working right, and you nearly fall as you follow the yanking of the leash. You follow the click of heels, trying to get your thinkpan to work. It feels fuzzy, like it is full of cotton, and your legs feel like jelly. At least the pain in your back is starting to subside, but you still feel trickles of blood. 

Janice leads you into the office, and you slink off to the corner. You keep your head bowed, not wanting to accept that this is happening. You are being sold for the fourth time in your awful life, to some arrogant wastechute licker who thinks it is fine to spend $2,000 on your ass. 

“Is this the first troll you’ve owned?”

“Yeah.” What the fuck? He has never owned a troll before? So why is he buying you now? Either this is the dumbest human in all of existence, or… Yes that is probably it. He is attracted to your blood color. Humans have the same color, yours must have interested him. You can envision him breaking your skin again and again just to laugh, to mock you. You could take it, just as long as he doesn’t do what HE did. Just as long as he doesn’t- no. You need to get those fucking thoughts out of your head. You can’t think about it. Not now.

“I’m sure I will be able to handle him perfectly well,” he says. The arrogant fuck, you will definitely not make it easy for him, no matter what he does to you. You growl and look up at him. He has pale blonde hair and a red shirt for some band on. And he is wearing aviators. Why in the world does he still have sunglasses on inside? He looks away from you and back at Janice. They finish up their business deal and then make to leave. Janice hands your new master the leash. All of a sudden, his hands are flying towards your face. Instinctively, you flinch and snap at him. You haven’t done anything to be hit yet.

“Calm down Karks, its ok. I just want to take this damn chain off ok,” he says. His expression shows no emotion, nothing to give you a clue as to what he is thinking. What was the point of taking the leash off? Did he want you to try to run? There’s no way he was actually being nice to you, no human has been nice to you in your life. Not really. And why the fuck did he call you “Karks”?

“Come on Karkitty, we are going home.” He starts to walk away, still watching you. As you follow, your legs still feel like they are made out of rubberbands. You thank all that is holy when he decides to call a cab. The trip to his apartment is quick. No words are exchanged. The pain in your back has subsided to a dull throb, and when you get out of the car, a small breeze hits it, cooling the ache slightly. You can feel the dried blood crack as you move, but try to pay no attention to it. Your master leads you into the building and starts to ascend a flight of stairs. 

As you climb, your legs turn from feeling weak to sore, and then they start to burn. Your body feels tired all over, and after the 8th set of stairs you are not sure how much farther you can go. When you get to the 10th flight, which also seems to be the top, you collapse. You hear him turn to look at you, and scramble to get back on your feet. You fear punishment for falling, for not just dealing with your fatigue. A troll is expected to always be alert for it’s master, and you should be gritting your teeth and continuing to stand. 

Suddenly, your feet leave the ground, and you are being supported by your masters arms. “Well sleeping beauty, it seems your just about ready for your nap,” he says, amused. He sure has some nerve doesn’t he. You start to struggle, trying to get back on the ground.

“Get the fuck off me,” you say. “I don’t need your help nookstain. I can walk by myself perfectly fine thank you very much.” His grip tightens around you, and you give up trying to get free, instead just growling at him.

“Uh uh princess. A knight always lends his services when he is needed.” He carries you through the door and into his apartment. There is trash everywhere as well as dirty clothes and shitty swords. Why the fuck has this guy not had a troll before you, he could certainly use one. Your master places you on the couch and the gashes on your back sting when they make contact with the fabric. “Ok let me look at your back.” You flinch out of the way again. He then sighs and says, “Ok look, let’s get something straight. I’m not like any other douche bag who has owned you before, or those idiots in the pound. I’m not going to hurt you ever. I just want to look at your wounds to make sure they don’t need stitches or something.” Yeah right, of course you are going to believe that bullshit. When he reaches for you again, you snarl at him and snap your teeth. 

“Why the fuck would I believe you? Do you know how many asshats have told me that before? Then they just beat me around like I’m a punching bag. Not that I really deserve anything better. You’re just going to be an assmunching abusive shit just like ever other master I have had in my sorry life. You’ll tell me you will treat me right, that I will be cared for as long as I’m good. But any little fuck up I make will be enough for you to beat me and get off to my screams. I have lived this before you shitsponge. But that’s what I get for being the scum of the earth righ-“ shit. Shit shit shit. You have just disrespected him in every way possible with your mouth. Why can’t you learn to just keep it fucking shut! You will be punished severely for this, you know it. You bow your head, afraid to look at him. “I mean, I’m sorry master. I didn’t mean any of that. Please don’t punish me.” You know it won’t do any good to ask for no punishment, but sometimes masters like begging and will go easier on you if you do beg. 

“Don’t call me master. I’m just Dave. Now let me see your back.” His words shock you. He isn’t going to punish you? After calling him names and accusing him of wanting to beat you, even though he has every right to, he’s not going to punish you? And he doesn’t want you to call him master? You comply with his order, letting him examine your wounds. You are shaking slightly, afraid he might decide that you actually do need to be put in your place. He gets up, and you know you are right, he will return with some sort of device to hurt you, but instead he just brings alcohol. He rubs your back with it, disinfecting the gashes as best he can. The alcohol burns and you hiss at it.

“How are you feeling? Do you want a shower, or should I take you to the spare room?” he asks. This guy was unbelievable. He was actually pretending to care about you. 

“You won’t be taking me anywhere, I can walk just fine by myself thank you. And some rest would be nice if you would allow me to have some,” you sneer at him.

“Of course. Let me get some extra blankets for you.” He returns a moment later with two very wrinkled blankets, and shows you to the spare room. You take the blankets from him. Why in the world was he being so nice to you. You look at him, trying to read him, but his expression remains blank.

“Here you go, home sweet home Karkles.” Did he actually just say that? And what is with him and calling you anything but your name? You turn away from him and enter the room. There is a bed, a dresser, and a closet inside. At least it’s actually clean. You sit on the bed, still unsure of what has happened today.

This Dave guy seems to be acting as though he actually cares about you. But that’s not possible right? Humans don’t really care about trolls, especially not mutants. Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you have just been bought by the most confusing human in existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, thank you so much for your kind words. Everyone was so fucking nice about the fic. If you see any typos or anything in either of these chapters, feel free to point them out. This chapter runs parallel to the first one. From here on out, the story will progress linearly and alternate between Karkat and Dave, so the next chapter will be from Dave's perspective again. I hope you are enjoying the fic. It is still really mind-blowing that I got so many comments and kudos. Have a huge thank you for reading!
> 
> -KK


	3. Tension

Karkat stayed in the guest bedroom all day. You certainly do not blame him, he needs sleep after the kind of abuse he received yesterday. Your stomach starts to complain again, and you wonder if you should order pizza or go actually buy groceries. On the one hand, you don’t want the small troll to freak out if he wakes up and finds you aren’t here. On the other, if you go buy food, you can take the list of food trolls can eat and buy him food too.

You decide to check on him to see if he would even wake up while you are gone. It’s not cool to look in as someone is sleeping, but you reason that you are just concerned and want to make sure he is ok. You’re not being creepy or anything. Dodging the many items littering the floor, you make your way to the free room. The room that is now Karkat’s room. Because you own a troll. That is going to take some time to wrap your head around.

You open the door as quietly as you can, then peer in. There is no one in the bed. Your eyebrows furrow, then you see a pile of blankets in the corner. Just visible is some tangled black hair and the tip of a nubby horn. You are not sure if he does not want to sleep in the bed or doesn’t think he is allowed, but you certainly have a talk coming up about rules, or the lack thereof. He seems like he is deep in sleep though, so you decide to go get food for the both of you. You write him a note saying you went shopping and stick it on the door incase he does wake up.

As you walk through the grocery store, you look over the list of foods that trolls cant have. Apparently all trolls are lactose intolerant because they aren’t mammals. That makes sense. There aren’t any meats they can’t have, and the guide suggests that a healthy troll needs about %60 of their diet to be rare or raw meat. That’s gross, but you guess that means less cooking time. They can’t have liver though because it can cause vitamin A toxicity. Creepy, but liver is disgusting anyway, so you don’t think that will be too hard. Onions, garlic, and chives should be fed only in small amounts, too many can break down blood cells. There is a note that this is a problem that is seen more in low bloods and much less common in highbloods due to highbloods bodies naturally making more blood. There are some other easy ones, like citruses and grapes. The list seems pretty easy and there are foods that you had noticed in the store that have “troll safe” labeled on them.

You pick up lots of meat, some pasta, garlic-less tomato sauce, various fruits and vegetables, some chips and a few sodas. You have already been gone an hour and a half trying to avoid any foods that might make Karkat sick, and decide that the food you had now should last for a while. You drive home and carry the groceries up the stairs. Spaghetti sounds like an excellent dinner if you do say so yourself and you are determined to get cooking right away when you get inside.

You nearly drop your groceries upon entering through the door. Your apartment… it’s clean. There are two large bags of trash sitting by the door. Next the the laundry room are three piles of clothes, sorted into darks, whites, and reds (of which you own many). Your swords are lined up against the wall next to the bar. There is a stack of your comic drawing on the coffee table, some movies, and other various items. Some things still remain on the floor, but it is nothing like it was. Karkat exits the bathroom, holding more clothes. When he sees you, he freezes.

“Hey Karkles. I like what you’ve done with the place. You really know how to make a lady feel special,” you say to him. It really did look good. But you knew he was just doing it because he thought it was his job. You were going to have that much needed talk over dinner.

“You are living in a fucking pigsty. It really is insane. How you can live like this, I don’t think I will ever know Master.” The look on his face shows that he really is disgusted by how dirty the place was.

“I told you, don’t call me Master, I’m just Dave. And you don’t have to clean if you don’t want to.”

“What do you want me to do then, Dave?” He says your name uncomfortably, like it feels wrong to him.

“I don’t know, whatever you feel like. You could help me make dinner if you want.” His brows knit together, but he places the clothes in the appropriate spots, then heads with you towards the kitchen. You show him where the groceries you bought go, then get some water boiling. When he turns his back to you, you see the gashes. They look clean and have scabbed over nice, but seeing them makes you feel sick. You still want to beat the shit out of both the handler and that woman for hurting Karkat like that. “Hey Karks, would you like a shirt?”

“If you actually have one that is clean, that would be fucking lovely,” he retorts back. You smirk a bit at his sass and walk into your bedroom. It is still a wreck, apparently he did not feel comfortable disturbing anything in here.

“Is there anything you prefer?”

“Something warm. And soft maybe?” You choose a fluffy grey turtle neck that you got as a joke from John. When you hand it to Karkat, he inspects it carefully. He lets out a small chirrup and looks up at you. “This is perfect. Thank you very much Mast-Dave.” He slides it on wincing a bit as he pulls it over his back, but seems content once he has it in place.

“I’m glad you like it, it wasn’t anything I was using.” He gives you the tinniest half smile. It looks almost like just a twitch of his lip, but you’re pretty sure it was a smile. At least that is what you are going to tell yourself. “Ok, you can watch the noodles while I heat up the sauce.” Fuck it sounds like you are giving orders. You can’t wait to talk to him, to explain that nothing is an order and that he can do things of his own free will. For right now you decide to just get dinner ready.

When the noodles are done, he starts to leave without getting a plate. “Aren’t you hungry?” you ask. He’s bound to be starving; he hasn’t eaten all day. You didn’t see anything in the booklet about trolls eating less than humans.

“I’m fucking famished, but I will wait for you to be done eating Ma-Dave.”

“You don’t have to do that. Come get some grub.” There is that curious look in his eyes again, like he is trying to figure you out. He waits for you to load up your plate, then puts the smallest bit onto his. “Karks, is that really all you want?”

He stiffens and looks away. “No, I could eat more but-“ You roll your eyes behind your shades, grab the spoon, and plop a nice sized helping of noodles onto his plate. Then you pour lots of sauce over the top. This troll is skin and bones and he is going to be eating well with you from here on out. He stares at the helping you gave him. “Thank you sir.”

“There’s no need to thank me, it’s just food." You go to sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. “Look Karkat, we need to talk.” Before you can say anything else, words start to pour out of him.

“I’m sorry for cleaning things today without your permission, I thought it might make you happy and maybe you wouldn’t want to punish me for what I said earlier. And I’m so sorry about always cursing, they just seem to fly out of my shitty loadgaper, fuck I just said another one, and, shit I’m sorry. I will take any orders from you directly in the future and I won’t do something like clean unless you tell me. I’m trying really hard to call you Dave, it’s just so against my training, it’s just really fucking hard. I’m sorry I am trying to be a good troll, I promise I am.”

“Shhhhh Karkles, it’s ok. Those things are kind of what I want to talk about.” A hint of fear flashes across his face. “Not in a bad way, it’s cool. I just want you to know that I don’t want you to act like a slave. You don’t have to take orders from me or eat after me or talk a certain way. I’m not your master, I’m just Dave. You can clean and do laundry and shit if you want, but you don’t have to if you don’t feel like it. Let’s just be friends ok?”

He stares at you for a second. And then he starts to laugh. It’s not a warm laugh, it’s a broken laugh, a dead one. A laugh that says yeah right, like I would believe that. He does this for a moment, then exhales loudly. His face is filled with contempt. “Then what was the point of buying me bulgesucker?”

This question catches you off guard. It’s a little hard to keep your stoic mask up as you answer. “I- They were torturing you. And any of those sick fucks would have done worse to you. I had to get you out of there.”

“You don’t think I’ve been through worse? I’ve been through more than your pathetic human thinkpan can even dream of. My eyes haven’t even filled in and I have been through so much shit that I can’t believe I’m still alive right now. I did not ask for you to rescue me. I don’t need a knight in shinning armor. Those can stay in the romcoms because I’m not worth it. I heard how much you paid for me. $2,000. I’m a fucking mutant blood. I could be the best troll in the fucking world and I still wouldn’t be worth nearly that much. And you spent that for what? To fucking rescue me? Because you pity me? Is this some sick trick to make me be your matesprit, because if it is, it’s not going to work.” He is growling again after that long rant. You decide to ignore it.

“I’m not trying to play you. I don’t even know what a mate spirit or whatever the fuck you said is. I just couldn’t let you be tortured like that. Here you can live with me and lead as close to a normal life as you want. No rules or expectations, just don’t put the TV through the wall or something stupid like that. And it sounds like after all you have been through you deserve this, for someone to finally treat you as an equal.”

“An equal? Me, equal to a human. Do you realize how fucking insane that sounds?” His face is bewildered and he is scanning yours.

“What I realize is that you are a being who is capable of thinking, of speech, of emotion. All of which you have displayed you know quite well. You are your own person and you, nor any other troll, should have to take orders from humans. I might not know what you have been through Karkat, but I can guess. The stories I have heard about the way some trolls are treated make me sick. But that is ending for you right here, right now. No more fear or questioning what a human’s motives are. As long as you are with me, I swear I will keep you safe.”

“You’re full of shit and I know it. I haven’t been safe since I hatched. I can take care of myself. I have lived through every curveball in my life. I didn’t need you to SAVE me. I don’t need your PITY. I don’t need you DAVE.” The small troll is panting, his fists are balled up and his eyes shooting daggers at you. Honestly he’s quite adorable, like a kitten who had had it’s tail pulled. Wait, no you don’t think he’s adorable. Just a little cute, platonically.

“Fine then. Do you want to go back to the pound? How much would they punish you for making me take you back in one day. Do you want your life to continue to be a pile of shit?”

He stares at you, shooting daggers, but his growl softens slightly. “Just leave me the fuck alone ok?” He takes his plate into his room and shuts the door.

You let a whistle slid between your teeth and lay your head on the back of the couch. That did not go how you wanted it to, not by a long shot. You flick on the TV, not really paying attention to what is on, and eat your spaghetti in silence. Time seems to tick by slowly, and Karkat does not come out of his room. After an hour, you figure you might as well go collect his plate and put it in the sink.

You rap on his door. “Hey Karks, can I come in?”

“Shove off,” he snaps back.

“I’m coming in anyway.” You open the door. Karkat is back in the corner, sitting in the pile of blankets. He is rapidly wiping his eyes, and you think he might have been crying. On the dresser sits his plate, and it doesn’t look like he has touched it at all. You go sit next to him on the ground. “Dude, what’s up?”

“I just don’t understand why,” he replies. His voice sounds thick, like he has been crying for a long time.

“Why what?”

“Why you are treating me like this. Like I’m… like I’m worth something. Why do you care? It makes it so much harder to hate you. I should hate you; I hate all humans. I hate humans for giving me this life, I hate my shitty life, I hate my blood color, I hate myself and I hate humans for making me hate myself. So why are you making it so difficult to hate you?” He looks up at you. His large eyes are glistening, his chest heaving slightly.

“I want to treat you decently Karkat. Obviously no one ever has before. But I will, I promise.”

“But why. Why Dave? Why me?” His eyes are searching your face again. You let your mask fall away and smile at him.

“Because you deserve it.” His dam breaks and he starts to sob uncontrollably. You hold him against your chest letting him get it all out. “You’re safe now Karkat. You’re safe.”

Eventually, he falls asleep against you, and you sit stroking his hair. You vow that you will never let anyone hurt him again, ever. You will protect him with your life. You will be his knight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting these pretty fast aren't I? I think I will start posting a chapter every Monday and Thursday starting now just to regulate things a bit more, so the next chapter will be up on Thursday. In this chapter we see my head cannon that Dave never calls Karkat "Karkat" unless it is about something serious. Thank you all for your words and feedback. As you can see, the boys are starting to get to know each other a little better. Soon we will start learning more about Karkat's past. Thank you for continuing to read! As always, feel free to tell me if you catch any mistakes, I really appreciate it.
> 
> Edit: I'm having some personal stuff come up in life and have not had time to write the next chapter. I'm very sorry about this for anyone who was looking forward to it. I will have time to write it Saturday, so it should go up on Monday. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
> 
> Edit 2: I have added a drawing made by my wonderful boyfriend. Also I am adding a new chapter tonight! So stay tuned for that. Go follow Lyric on tumblr at thelyricalartist.tumblr.com. 
> 
> -KK


	4. Fear

Warmth. You are surrounded by warmth. You haven’t been this content since you slept in the comfort piles with the other wigglers. It’s probably just a dream, a memory of life when it was easy, when you didn’t have to fight to survive. You stay still, not wanting it to end. You are half awake and so certain this is a dream, that the warmth will fade as you come too, when suddenly it moves.

You’re body and aggravation sponge are on full alert before your thinkpan is, and you are on the other side of the room with your teeth and claws bared. As your thinkpan starts to come around, you take in the situation. You are in a respiteblock and there, across the room is a pile of blankets. Inside said pile of blankets is a sleeping human propped up against the wall.

Right. You were sold and he is your new master. No fuck he doesn’t want you to call him master, just Dave. Dave is wearing one of his numerous red shirts (why the fuck does he have so much red clothing?) and his shades are on his face askew. Next to him is an indention in the blankets that looks vaguely troll shaped. Shit, that’s what was warm. You were sleeping next to the Dave human. You snarl at your past self’s stupidity, when suddenly lasts nights events start to flood back to you. God dammit you had cried in front of the nookwiffer. He’d seen how weak you really are, and… and he didn’t care. Or rather he cared in a way that you were not expecting. He held you and let you cry. Why did he treat you like you were of value? He had to have a motive and yet that would have been the point to hurt you the most, when you were that vulnerable. Maybe he is trying to build your trust so he can really hurt you in the future. You shake your head and decide to think about this later.

Your stomach starts to complain and you figure that breakfast sounds like a damn good idea. You haven’t eaten since breakfast at the pound two days ago. Dave bought lots of food yesterday anyway, might as well eat some. You open the fridge and start to shuffle through it. It was actually clean since you had scrubbed it yesterday. You’re not sure how many boxes of moldy Chinese food you cleaned out of it. You shudder just to remember.

Holy shit the guy bought lots of meat. You didn't really notice that yesterday, you were to busy worrying he did not like that you cleaned his apartment. The place seriously looked like a tornado had flown through the it. You grab some sausage and some eggs and start cooking. You leave your sausage fairly raw, but cook it just long enough to make it warm throughout. Dave’s however you cook for much longer because human stomachs are weird and will get sick from raw meat. You then proceed to make the eggs, frying all four over-easy. You have no fucking clue how the human likes his eggs, but over-easy was the main one they taught you in training so that is what he is getting. If he doesn’t like it he can go suck a nook.

You get a plate, put your two sausages and an egg on it. You could take the other egg too, but it still feels wrong to eat the same amount or more than him. And then… then you stand here because you have no fucking idea where to sit and eat. If the bludgelicker was awake you could ask, but no, he still has his ass in the pile sleeping like a happy little grub. You think that in the shouting match you had with him yesterday (mostly you shouting) he implied you could sit where you want. But that feels so _wrong_. You could sit at the bar, which is where a human would normally eat breakfast, or on the couch, which is where Dave ate dinner last night, but you aren’t sure. You wish there was one of those low tables with the pillows that you used to eat at like at your old masters house… that you are not going to fucking think about.

You decide to just sit on the living room floor and eat at the coffee table. It feels like a win-win, you are using Dave’s things, kind of, but you don’t have to sit anywhere that feels wrong. As you cut into your second sausage, the door to the respiteblock opens. You glance back, then bow your head in recognition of your master’s entry into the room. Peering up slightly, you catch him stifling a yawn.

“Morning Karks, got breakfast going all ready? You really know how to make me feel spoiled don’t cha?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you stifle a snarl. You roll your eyes and turn to face your food again. “Hey, you know you can sit on the couch right?”

“What if I enjoy the floor. Maybe it reminds me of happier times. Maybe trolls are built differently than humans and aren’t made to sit in chairs. It could hurt my torso pillar and cause me to have terrible pain which I am forced to swallow to please my master. Ever fucking think of that?”

“Well someone is feeling a little crabby today. And I know that it doesn’t hurt because I have seen plenty of trolls lounging sitting down throughout my life.”

“I’m not crabby, shut your squawk gaper,” you growl at him.

“Whatever Karcrab. Let’s see what you have made this lovely lass for breakfast.” He gets a plate of eggs and sausage, then comes to sit on the couch. After a few minutes of eating in silence, he glances over at you again. “Come on Karks come sit on the couch next to me.”

You glare at him. “Yesterday you said I could do what I want, so no, I’m going to sit my ass right where it is thank you.”

“Well then, look’s like we are doing this the Strider way.” Before you can think, he has picked you up and is cradling you in his arms.

You start to swing your arms at him, scratching at his skin with your dull claws. “Put me down you nooksniffer or I swear on your mother’s grave I will rip the skin off your skull, peel the pathetic bone back, and pour fire ants on your thinkpan.”

The asshole has the audacity to kiss you on the cheek before saying “As you wish my princess,” then dumps you on the couch. “Now stay Karkitten. Sit on the plush couch and relax with your delicious, home cooked meal.”

You grumble, fight the urge to smack the smirk off his face, and pull your plate into your lap. The fucking asshat thinks he is on such an entitled pedestal that he can just grab you without even telling you what's happening. You will shove your fist so far up his ass he will never even think about touching you again. Except you won’t, because you have no hatchrights to do that sort of thing.

“So Karkles, why do you sleep on the floor instead of in the bed.” You stare at him, unable to believe his ignorance.

“Did you read the fucking guidebook. Trolls don’t sleep on beds. We need a pile to sleep on. Generally made up of our favorite type of thing, like bike horns or something. I’m fine with just some blankets though.”

“What would you prefer your pile be made out of then?”

“That’s kind of personal and you can take your prying questions to a different troll assnugget. Like I said, those blankets are just fine.”

“Well hey, why don’t we get you some more blankets then. And some other things you need. Like clothes. You are not going to wear that sweater as your only shirt. Also you have got to have some possessions or something. We can get you a laptop and some books and games and shit too. Because I figure you will be in here a lot and I don’t want you to get bored.”

Holy shit, did all of that just come out of his mouth? Like sure some clothes would be nice, and you could use more blankets than just two so you actually have a pile, but a laptop? Books… plural? Games? Was this guy fucking for real?

“Stop staring at me like I’m god or some shit. Come on, finish up your food. You started before me and I’m already done.”

“Bullshi-” you start to say, but upon looking at his plate, he really has finished all his food. The guy was a fast eater that was for damn sure. You scarf down the rest of your sausage and eggs while he picks through the laundry for some clean clothes.

“Come on Karkles,” he calls out to you as you finish rinsing the plates. “Let’s go shopping. Oh my god this is going to be so fun I can’t wait. Especially the shoes.” He says this all while staying completely deadpan, as always. What is Dave’s problem? Is he trying to be funny or some shit. You grumble to yourself as you walk to him. Instead of opening the door, he just stares at you like an idiot.

“Open the goddamn door fuckballs,”

He reaches out to you and you steel yourself so that you don’t flinch. He pulls down the turtleneck of the sweater, revealing the rough red collar you still have on. Then he fingers the collar, his light touch just barely flitting against your skin. When it does, your breath hitches slightly.

“We should get you a nicer… one of these. You don’t have to wear it in the apartment.” His voice is soft and low. You feel a blush creeping up on your cheeks. His fingers are still on your neck and feel cool on your flushed skin. The moment feels so intimate, so caring, but no. You are not going to have those kinds of thoughts. About a human no less. Fuck no. You look away, effectively ending whatever that shit was.

He finally opens the door, and you two are on your way. You pull your turtleneck down more so that the collar is very visible. You are not about to get both Dave and yourself in trouble for not having a collar showing. He leads you to the carport and opens the door for you. “My lady,” he says, sweeping his arm to his waist and giving you a deep bow.

“Fuck off,” you reply and flip the bird at him. He smirks and closes your door.

He drives to a general purpose store, and you both get out. “What do you want to look at first Karks?”

“You’re the one who said you love shopping. This wasn’t my damn idea.”

“Oh I do love shopping. Ironically of course. Let’s find a new collar for you first. That one seems really uncomfortable.” There is a slight pause before he says collar, as if he wishes he had another word for it. You both head back to the troll section of the store. There are all sorts of things that are for ‘taking care of trolls.’ There are pet beds, leashes, bondage ties, cages, special floor pillows to act as the proper place for a troll to sit, and bloodcolor themed clothing among many other things. You and Dave walk over to the collars.

“So it has to be red right?”

“Yes fuckwad, it has to reflect my bloodcolor. Because it’s this world’s cruel joke to make me have to display my blood everywhere I go.”

“Right….” He fiddles with his lip between his teeth a bit and why the fuck are you looking at his mouth. You turn your attention towards the collars.

There are only a handful bright red ones, and you wish you could get away with wearing a rustblood collar like you used to. Some of the highblood collars are fancy, decked out in lace and rhinestones or spiked studs. A few of the midbloods are this way too, and most of the lowbloods are solid colored or have a slight pattern to them. Near the bottom, you see a slim color that is mottled grey and bright red. You pick it up. It feels smooth and is lined with a soft fabric on the inside, much better than the ratty nylon one you are wearing now.

“Is that the one you like?” Dave inquires. You shrug your shoulders. It’s much better than any other collar you have ever had that is for damn sure. “Then put it in the cart.” You toss the collar into the shopping cart and the two of you continue shopping.

You get a few pairs of shoes, a bundle of socks, some skinny jeans, and more plush turtlenecks, all dark grey or black. You love the softness, the feel of it against your skin is very comforting. It helps calm your mind a bit. You and Dave then walk over to the blankets. You sift through them, mostly paying attention to the feel, when the softest, plushest fabric you have felt in your entire life meets your hand. You instinctively chirrup, then curse yourself for doing so. Dave looks at you, a smirk on his face and an eyebrow raised.

“Do you like that one Karkitty?”

You growl at him “Shove off Dave.” It was very nice though. You could see yourself sleeping peacefully with it in your blanket pile. You pick it up and look at the price. It’s… oh of course. It’s eighty fucking dollars. Why wouldn’t it be. It’s only the softest blanket to exist in the world. You were not about to make your master spend that much money on you. “It’s way to expensive anyway,” you say to him. “I can find something cheaper.”

“Karks, is that the one you want?” He flashes that understanding smile that he gave you last night, the one that made you melt when you saw how much compassion he truly had. This time it’s only there for an instant, dissolving into his poker face as quickly as it appeared.

“I… I like the texture.” You look at the ground, not wanting him to see how much something like the softness of a blanket mattered to you.

“Hmm yes this does feel nice. There are four of them here. We can get them all if you like.”

You pick your head up rapidly and eye him in surprise. “But… they… They are fucking eighty dollars!”

“So, who gives a shit. We are getting the blankets. Is four enough?”

“Um, yeah that’s plenty.” Wow. With four of those things you would have the best pile around. The only thing better would be enough romcoms to add to the pile. Just imagining being surrounded by that fluff and your favorite movies makes you feel a little lighter on your feet. Which reminds you. Dave mentioned books.

“Hey Dave, you did say I could get some books right?”

“Yeah you want to go pick some out?”

“Hell fucking yes” you reply. You make a beeline to the romance novels. You first pick up a copy of The Fault in Our Stars. You left your worn copy back at the pound, but this was your all-time favorite novel. The romance was so complex and beautiful, it made you cry every time you read it.

“Really Karkles, romance novels?” You can hear the smirk in Dave’s voice. “I bet this isn’t even irony or anything, I bet you just fucking enjoy them don’t you?”

“Dave, it seems to me that you do not understand the wonderful intricacy and complexity of a relationship. Even without the other three quadrants your human romance novels still show more depth than any other genre, and I will fucking ask for any that catch my eye here. You might want to set a limit of how many I can get because I swear to god I will want every single book on this shelf.”

“Dude, you realize there is this thing called a library. We can get you a pass.”

“Trolls can’t have passes you ignorant shameglobe sniffer.”

“Then I will fucking take you and check them out for you. You don’t have to own them all though. However feel free to get as many as the little princess locked up in the tower that is your soul desires.” You snarl at him, then turn back to the books. You decide that 10 is a good number for now, Dave was right, if he took you to the library he could get you lots more for free. You pick out your very favorites, The Notebook and The Scarlet Letter to name a few. The smirk never leaves Dave’s face, but you pay no mind. The bastard obviously had no appreciation for true art.

“Ok, so there are your love stories your highness how about a laptop?” Shit you forgot he mentioned that. You, owning a laptop. There had to be a law against that or something right? If there was you didn’t remember, and by this point you were pretty sure Dave would just tell anyone who asked that it was for him anyway. “Is there anything you specifically like in a laptop?”

“I haven’t used one fucknuts.”

“What? You have never used a laptop? What kind of torture have you been through?”

Torture. Memories. Flesh burning. The pain so intense. Begging for him to stop. To please stop. That laugh. That high cold laugh. How degraded you felt. How used you felt. How you still feel. Hating yourself because you know you brought it on again. Hating your bloodcolor. So much of your bloodcolor. Always there without any of your control. So much blood. So much pain. Just stop. Please just stop. Please please please stop. I’ll be good I’ll be good. But you’re never good are you Karkat. Karkat. Karkat.

“Karkat. Snap out of it Karkat it’s ok. You’re ok, you’re safe, it’s ok.” Dave. You’re with Dave. Dave is your master now. You will never have to see him again. Dave is nice to you, he acts like he cares.

You look up at him. Despite the shades, you can see the worry on his face. You can feel sweat on your skin and tears on your cheeks. You’re bloodpusher is pulsing rapidly, your breath is shaky. You look right and can see a few people staring. One tealblood is shaking her head at you. Dave’s hand touches your cheek and bring’s your face back around to look at him. Though you can’t see them, you can feel his eyes staring into yours. For once, he is the one who is searching for answers. He wipes a tear from your eye, and you lean in slightly to his touch. The comfort of his presence is calming.

“You’re safe Karkat. Everything is fine.” You nod your head, your throat feels to thick for words. “Come on, let’s go get a laptop then go home.”

You follow in his shadow the rest of the shopping trip. He buys you a laptop that he says is ‘user friendly’. You pass on getting games or anything else. You just want to be home, away from the stares. It’s like you can hear the thoughts of every person or troll you pass. “There is the troll who broke down”, “How could his master put up with something like that?”, “He should learn to control his emotions.” Each side glance you get is like another dagger to your side. You are so fucking ready to be out of here. You don’t even wince at the bill, of how much more money Dave just spent on you. Finally you get into the car. The sun has heated the interior enough to roast a cluckbeast, but you can’t find a fuck to give. You finally feel somewhat safe. Dave get’s in and starts the AC.

“Hey Karks, let’s change your collar out quickly ok?”

You bow your head, allowing him to change the collars, but not really paying attention. You feel numb and tired, and all you want to do is take your new blankets into your respiteblock and curl up in your pile. When you arrive at the apartment however, Dave seems to have different ideas.

“Karkat, come sit.” Dave leads you over to the couch. You clutch the bag with your new blankets inside; maybe this will be quick and you can abscond to your pile soon. “Karkat, do you want to explain to me what happened back there?” You shake your head. Your horns seem to weigh it down, making it heavier, and your thinkpan feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton.

There is pressure against your chin, lifting it up. You meet his shaded gaze. You’re head feels like you’re putting all your weight on his hand. It’s like you’re body is going limp.

“Please Karkat,” Dave says, “I need to know what happened.”

You breath in, feeling the way the air goes down your throat, then squeak the word “Memories.”

“What kind of memories Karkat?” You rip your face away and bury it in your hands, folding your body in on itself. You don’t want to think about them again. They are too awful, to much to handle a second time. “Karkat please. I can’t help if I don’t know.”

“Terrifying. I don’t want to think about them. Please,” you squeeze your body tighter, trying to disappear, “please don’t make me remember again.”

“Fine, you don’t have to think about them now. How can I help?”

“I just want my pile. Some sleep. Alone preferably.”

“Ok then. I can do that.” Dave makes quick work of opening all four blankets. You take them to the respiteblock then over to your small pile. After some mild arranging, you crawl inside the pile.

Your head is buzzing, you have a killer headache, and your body feels like it’s made of lead. The new plush blankets surround you, comforting you slightly. What brought that on? What about that situation made you flip shit like that? Just the word torture? You have seen and heard that word several times already. No, it was the comfort, the safety of the moment. Safe, just like you felt with _him_. Before _he_ broke you. You will never be safe again, not really. Dave might seem safe, but he will break you too. Just as _he_ did before. You shift slightly in the pile, then drift off to a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I know this is late. Shit has been happening and I am glad I am able to get it up now. I apologize most sincerely to anyone who has been waiting for this. I will try to have the next chapter up by thursday, but can nearly promise it won't be up until next Monday. All of that being said, this is my longest chapter yet! It is nearly 4,000 words, so I hope you all enjoy that. I had some messages about people waiting, so I am posting this without editing it right now. If you see something, tell me. I will edit it tomorrow and try to get it perfect. Thank you for sticking with these two boys. I love you all for reading the fic, and I assure you Dave and Karkat do to. Karkat won't admit it, but he does. Enjoy the chapter and thank you all!
> 
> *Edit* I have not forgotten about this fic. You know how in past notes I said that things were hectic in my life? That intensified rather than calming down. I DO NOT know when I will be able to write some more, but I WILL. So keep checking back. I do know what the next chapter is about, (hint: backstory) and I have been thinking about it a lot. I just need to get enough of a break to actually write it. Thank you for your patience and understanding.
> 
> -KK


	5. Neglect

Memories. Yeah you understand memories. Memories have walked with you your whole life. Just because you were mildly famous, just because you could afford a nice apartment and a car and food, you will never forget that life wasn’t always that easy. Just because this apartment felt safe doesn’t mean you will forget the apartment walls that felt like a jail cell. Just because you have food now doesn’t mean your stomach can’t remember practically folding in on itself. Just because you can talk to him now doesn’t mean you don’t remember what he did to you.

Memories were etched into everything you did. When you open the fridge now you flinch slightly expecting swords to fall out. Sometimes if you have a guest over, they open a door just the right way and you think he is home. And when for business you actually have to hear his voice, it’s all you can do to keep your cool. 

Memories follow you to the bathroom every morning, before you put your shades on. When you look in the mirror and see red eyes looking back. He always hated those eyes. He said it was because they freaked him out. He’d made it clear that if anyone ever saw them, you would become an outcast before you could count to ten. Only three people had seen your eyes, and two wouldn’t be considered people in this fucked up world.

Yeah, you fucking know how memories feel. And you will never forgive Bro for the memories he gave you.

You saunter into your bedroom and lie on the bed. Gazing up at the ceiling you allow yourself to think back on when you first realized just how little Bro cared for you. 

\--------

The rain is pounding against your bedroom window. There is a beeping that can only be from your school alarm. You hit the snooze then sink deeper into your bed. Your nose is stuffy and your throat is itchy. The itch builds, and you start to cough. This only makes things worse, and you get yourself into a coughing fit. 

“Hey Dave, are, um, are you alright?” a timid voice asks. 

“I guess. I’ll be dressed in a few minu-“ Your sentence is cut off by another round of coughing, this time even more intense.

“Dave, I’m coming in. You don’t sound good.” A short yet lanky brown blooded troll enters the room. His horns resemble that of a bull, but they are probably the only thing about him that could be seen as intimidating. He was the first troll your Bro ever purchased, and was one of the two who had basically raised you. He hangs back by the door, giving you your space, but looks intensely worried.

“Tavros, I’m fine,” you say, though your voice is scratchy and weak.

“Yes I’m sure you are. Your throat doesn’t sound like a fork on a steel pan or anything. You should definitely stay home today. I’ll go get the thermometer.” He leaves the room and you press your head into your hands. 

You know that you have to go to school. Bro always says that you can only stay home if you have a good reason, and a good reason essentially boils down to you are bleeding and on your death bed. You know it’s just because he cares about you, but god sometimes you wish he would let up on some of his rules.

The rules have been drilled into your brain for years. Don’t go anywhere without your shades. Don’t miss school. Don’t bring unnecessary attention to yourself. Don’t ever let anyone know you’re related to Bro. Don’t make trouble. Never, under any circumstances, make trouble. But come on, you’re fifteen years old and you think you can handle yourself by now. 

You sit up and cough gently, then wobble over to your closet. Your head is dizzy and you definitely do not feel well. You grab the first shirt your hand finds, your binder, a pair of boxers, and some dark skinny jeans. You wonder if you should actually wear your binder when you have a cough, but don’t want to get weird looks from the other kids. As you are placing your first leg into the jeans, you hear at tap on the door. “Just a minute,” you yell. Or try to yell. It comes out as more or less a squeak. Quickly, you shove your other leg into the jeans, and then call for Tavros to come in.

The door creeks open again, and Tavros walks gently up to your bed. “Here, I brought the thermometer. Open your mouth.” You allow him to place it under your tongue, and wait a moment. It beeps and flashes red, indicating you have a fever. “Dave, it’s one hundred and two degrees! You cannot go to school today.” 

Glaring at Tavros, you say “Do I really have a choice?”

“He’s not home this week. We just… won’t tell him. I can call the school and everything will be fine. He doesn’t even have to know.”

“If he ever found out, do you know what he would do to you?”

“We just won’t let him find out.”

“ We won’t let who find out what?” a commanding voice booms.

“Uh, Ma-Master,” Tavros stutters, bowing his head quickly. “Dave is sick and I was advising him, that… that maybe it would be wise to not… go to…. school.”

“And you were planning on keeping this information from me?” Tavros drops to the ground, and Bro towers over him. “A troll who lies to their master is worth nothing more than scum in a pond.”

“Bro, please don’t. He’s just trying to take care of me. Which, if you recall, was the last order you gave him.” You stifle a wince. It’s hard to talk, but you work to keep your poker face on around him. You don’t want him to think you are showing signs of weakness. A cough rises in your throat, but you push that down too.

“I’ll let it slide this time, but you will be going to school today Dave. I forgot my laptop and am only stopping by to grab it, but as soon as I am in Chicago, I will be calling the school to make sure you are there. Understand?” You nod. “Where are your shades? You know your eyes freak me out.”

“Sorry, I just hadn’t put them on yet.”

“Well hurry up and do it. I think Rez is frying up some eggs for you. Don’t you dare be late.”

“Yeah I know,” you grumble and grab your shades from your nightstand. You walk lazily into the kitchen where Terezi is plating some chicken fetuses for you.

“Hey, I overheard what’s happening. You’re not feeling good are you?” she says.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel, it only matters how I present myself. If I act cool and calm no one will ever know I’m sick.”

As Terezi hands you your food, she leans in and says very low “You and I both know it’s not that easy.”

“Well you and I both know it’s for a good reason,” you reply. You eat your eggs quickly, then leave for school.

You get home and you are miserable. As soon as you close the door, you finally drop your poker face and start to cough uncontrollably. 

“Dave! Are you ok?” Terezi runs to the entryway where you are doubled over. Her cool hands feel your forehead. You want to curl up in her lap like you did when you were little. The coughing feels like it’s ripping up your throat, and your eyes become moist with tears. “You’re burning up!” She lifts you and carries you over to the couch.

“R-rezie,” you sputter through your coughing fit. “I’m fine, honest.”

“Like hell you are! You need to rest. I am so glad it’s Friday. That way Bro will not be able to force you to go to school. Just take this weekend easy ok?”  
That evening, Tavros makes you some chicken soup. He and Terezi are obviously worried about you. You overhear a conversation about whether they should inform Bro about how sick you are. They seem to decide against it.

The weekend passes by both quickly and agonizingly slow. You feel fuzzy and delirious. Mostly you stay in your bedroom and sleep, only really getting up to use the bathroom. When Monday hits, you honestly feel worse, if that is possible. Your body aches, your lungs feel like knives are piercing them whenever you inhale, and overall your health level is equivalent to that of a greasy banana peel. In other words, you feel like shit. There is no way you can go to school like this. 

You decide to call Bro. You fumble around on your bedside table for a moment, eventually grabbing your phone. You stifle a cough as the phone rings.

“What?” is all he says.

“Bro there is no way in hell I can go to school today,” you say. Or at least that’s what you try to say. In actuality, your voice is a mixture of a whisper and unintelligible squeaking.

“Dave. What the fuck, speak up if you’re going to call me. I’m hella busy right now. Just fucking text me. Bye.” You hear a click, and he’s gone. 

You groan, which makes you cough. This time the coughing doesn’t stop. Your lungs are burning and you can’t breath. You’re gasping for air, but you can’t stop the coughing. Your limbs are starting to tingle, and your head is getting heavy from the lack of oxygen. You think Terezi is holding you now. The coughing won’t stop. Every sharp intake of air you can get is blades running you through your chest. You’re vision gets fuzzy, and then fades to black.

Throughout the next few hours, everything is a whirlwind of activity. You know you are in the emergency room. You know you answered some questions about who you are. But mostly all you’re sure of is that Terezi and Tavros are with you, constantly. Terezi even gets into an argument with a nurse when she says that they can be dismissed. The nurse relents when Terezi says that her orders are to stay by your side. Has she talked to Bro? Where is Bro? Why isn’t he here? You want to ask, but you can’t make your mouth work. You decide it isn’t really worth it right now. Exhausted, you fall into a deep sleep.

You awaken to a white room. Light is dappling the walls as you blink and look around. A lady is replacing an IV bag. Your IV.

“Oh, Mr. Strider! You’re awake. I’ll go get the doctor.” She skitters out of the room as you close your eyes again. What the fuck was up with that ‘Mr. Strider’ nonsense? At least you can actually breathe again. Your lungs no longer feel like they are filled with literal magma.

The door opens as a young woman steps in. 

“Hello Dave, I’m Dr. Rodriguez, but you can call me Emily. It seems you had a bad strain of the flu that went unchecked and developed into pneumonia. Why did you let it go on without getting medical attention?”

“I don’t know, ask my Bro,” you say with a small cough. “Is he here?”

“Yes, he is. I will send him in in just a moment, but first I want to check your vitals.” Dr. Rodriguez asks you a few questions about how you feel, and directs you to do things like open your mouth and breath deeply. You comply to everything. Finally, she leaves, and in enters Bro.

Before he even opens his mouth, you know you’re in trouble.

“Dave what the actual fuck Dave. A hospital? You let Terezi check you into a hospital? And you told them you are related to me? You know you are never, ever, supposed to act like you know me.” His face is slightly red from anger, but he still has his usual calm. You, however, can tell he is livid.

“Yeah well I don’t have any money of my own, so what the fuck was I supposed to say. And they wanted me to contact a guardian. Which, not sure if you’re aware of this, but that would be you.” You find it harder to mask your anger.

“I am painfully aware that you exist yes. Now I need to go talk to the press about the younger brother no one ever knew I had. And when you leave this room, you better hold up whatever story I tell them. You are such a thorn in my side, I never should have said that I would raise you.” He turns a little to quick to be as calm as he sounds, and closes the door a little too forcefully.

Why the fuck did he have to be such an arrogant prick sometimes? It’s like he expects you to be perfect in all you do. Be the perfect little child he never even wanted. It’s not your fault he banged some chick that died in childbirth, and you were dumped into his life. But he cared about you. In his weird, fucked up, twisted way, he cared about you. Just because he didn’t run the house like a normal adult didn’t mean he didn’t care. He wants you to go to school when you’re sick so that you get educated. Right?

Or what if it’s just so you can be someone else’s responsibility for seven hours, five days a week. No. No don’t think like that. Bro cares. He does. He got Terezi so that she could take care of you. I mean, yeah he also uses her for sex but he uses Tavros too. Lots of troll owners fuck their trolls. And he’s done other things for you. Like… like he bought you the new turntable for your birthday. Which was actually bought by Tavros with the money Bro gave him for your birthday… He taught you to rap. No Tavros did that too. He edits your comics. No he doesn’t even do that! He always just has Terezi or one of his editors do it. What has Bro actually ever done for you?

What has he done?

Your chest clenches. You know the answer. It’s nothing. There is practically not a single thing he has ever done that was just for your benefit. The rules were put in place to control you.

Don’t go anywhere without your shades, because your eyes freak him out. Don’t miss school, because he sure as hell doesn’t want to have to deal with you during the day. Don’t bring unnecessary attention to yourself, because you should sit in the corner and act like you don’t exist. Don’t ever let anyone know you’re related to Bro, because he doesn’t want people to know about his secret. Don’t make trouble. Never, under any circumstances, make trouble. Because Bro doesn’t want to deal with you.

Bro has never actually loved you. 

You shift in the hospital bed, turning your head from the door as fat tears roll down your face. To him, you are worth nothing. 

\---------

 

You’re eyes are a little dewy from remembering. You have long since come to peace with the fact that Bro doesn’t actually give a damn about you. But at least Terezi and Tavros did. People would probably think it’s crazy that you cared more about the trolls in your childhood then you did your guardian, but fuck Bro honestly.

You know that this is why you feel so protective of Karkat. It’s because you were so neglected, treated like you were actually nothing. You know what it feels like to be nothing. You know that trolls are valuable, that they have feelings and emotions and are capable of so much more than being the slaves that they are in society. You know that Karkat is worth something, just like you have worth too. And by all that is holy, you will help him see that. Karkat is broken. You know that. But honestly, you’re broken too, so maybe you can help each other heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it's been so fucking long. No I am not dead. Wow shit has happened in my life though. But I said I wasn't abandoning this thing and lookie here I didn't. Aren't you proud. Sorry there isn't much DaveKat fluff in this chapter, I just really wanted you all to know why Dave is the way he is in this fic. Um, if you haven't seen my wonderful matesprit's art in chapter 3, I added that tonight too. I will start working on the next chapter soon. As always, I fucking love anyone who reads this thing. Thank you so much for all of your comments, bookmarks, and kudos. It really means a lot to me. 
> 
> -KK


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